


Out of Darkness, Light

by AngelOfTheMoor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Angst, Demon!Dean, Episode 9.23, Falling Castiel, First Blade, Fluff, Kisses, Love, M/M, Mark of Cain, Prophecy, Schmoop, Season 9, Spoilers, do you believe in miracles?, finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1666667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfTheMoor/pseuds/AngelOfTheMoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a prophecy, long buried in the ether, tiny specks of The Word hidden in the cracks of the universe.</p><p> <i>When up shall be down and down shall be up</i><br/><i>When the righteous shall be wicked and the wicked shall be righteous</i><br/><i>When the natural order is tattered and shattered</i><br/><i>When the meek rule in heaven</i><br/><i>When light is dark and dark is light</i><br/><i>When the light fuses with the dark</i><br/><i>Then the Lord shall return</i><br/><i>And grant the Cosmos its due reward.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Darkness, Light

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: _Supernatural_ doesn't belong to me.
> 
> I'm sure this is just one of many Destiel Season 9 finale fics. But this idea struck me, and it wouldn't let me go until I wrote it. It's probably kind of corny. I'm not sure what I think of it, as it's not my usual style, but here you go. I hope you like it.
> 
> Feedback is welcome! :)

There is a prophecy, long buried in the ether, tiny specks of The Word hidden in the cracks of the universe.

_When up shall be down and down shall be up_

_When the righteous shall be wicked and the wicked shall be righteous_

_When the natural order is tattered and shattered_

_When the meek rule in heaven_

_When light is dark and dark is light_

_When the light fuses with the dark_

_Then the Lord shall return_

_And grant the Cosmos its due reward._

xxxxxxxxxx

Angels, beacons of light and grace, initiated the Apocalypse. Michael and Lucifer meant to finally settle their differences and obliterate the world with them.

But the bastion of Free Will said no.

An angel, fallen not because he turned away from the Lord’s light, but because his brothers and sisters had done so.

The Righteous Man, along with a younger man who shared his blood, the Abomination, a vessel for Darkness (yet Lucifer’s name meant light), craving the demon blood that used to course through his veins.

It had begun.

xxxxxxxxx

After the Apocalypse had been thwarted, the Fallen Angel attempted to save the Abomination from an eternity of Darkness, but he failed.

The Fallen Angel was alone. His superiors, the ones who had instigated the Apocalypse, hunted him, and he saw no recourse but to wage war.

He thought of enlisting the help of the Righteous Man, but he wanted the Righteous Man to enjoy life as a normal human.

So he turned to the new King of Hell and struck a deal.

In his desperation, he slaughtered many of his kinsmen, having been twisted into something alien by the eldest Creatures of Darkness.

xxxxxxxxxx

The Fallen Angel expelled the Darkness inside him, but he lost his life. The Lord knew best, so He resurrected the Fallen Angel.

xxxxxxxxxx

The Fallen Angel, trusting, naïve, and repentant, fell for a trick, one perpetrated by the Scribe of God, a being tainted by hubris.

xxxxxxxxxx

The Fallen Angel only wanted to set matters right. So did the Righteous Man, and the Abomination.

The Abomination knew he should have died after trying to close the Gates of Hell.

The Righteous Man felt as if everything was his fault, so he took on every burden. If his brother died, that would be his fault. So he bargained with an angel he knew nothing about, one who bore a reputation for wickedness. The Infamous Angel.

One who would perpetuate vile deeds in an attempt to redeem himself.

The Righteous Man felt as if he bore the responsibility for killing the Queen of Hell.

The King of Hell also wished to kill the Queen of Hell, so he manipulated the Righteous Man until he sank into Darkness.

Until the Righteous Man, bearing the most notorious Mark of mankind, became the Darkness.

The Darkness he had fought his whole life to extinguish.

The Darkness from which he had wished to save humanity.

xxxxxxxxxx

The Scribe of God tore his brethren from Heaven, waged his own elaborate campaign to set himself up as the Lord. God must be dead, he reasoned, or perhaps He no longer cared. Both were situations the remaining angels feared.

As the King of Hell manipulated the Righteous Man, the Scribe of God manipulated his fellow angels. All they wanted was to go home.

The Infamous Angel, the one who had inadvertently allowed humanity to fall prey in Eden, desired redemption. But more blood, innocent blood, soiled his hands. At first, he took it in stride, focused on proving himself.

But like the Fallen Angel, the Infamous Angel loved humanity. When he discovered the true plan set forth by the Scribe of God, the plot to destroy humanity, he joined forces with the Fallen Angel.

He paid dearly, but the Infamous Angel redeemed himself.

The Scribe of God was locked away.

The surviving angels believed in their original purpose. They were beings of light and grace.

They wished to spread love throughout the world and ensure the well-being of humans.

And if that meant falling in love with one particular human—that was noble, too.

xxxxxxxxxx

The Fallen Angel knew he would die. The alien grace writhed inside him, burning, and soon it would consume him.

The Scribe of God had said the Righteous Man was dead.

The Fallen Angel loved the Righteous Man above any other.

He must pay his respects before he melted away.

xxxxxxxxxx

The Fallen Angel arrived at the Righteous Man’s home. There, he found the Abomination (a dear friend, far from an abomination), curled up on the couch, sobbing into his knees.

“I heard he was . . . no more,” the Fallen Angel said.

The Abomination shook his head. “No. Well, yes. He is no more. But it is so much worse than that. He’s— _gone_. Something else is inside him.”

The Fallen Angel listened to his shoes scrape across the floor as he shuffled toward the Righteous Man’s room.

The King of Hell greeted him with a smirk.

Indeed, the Righteous Man was no more; that beautiful soul encapsulated in hazel-green had disappeared.

Instead, Darkness stared back at him.

The King of Hell grinned. “I win.”

The Fallen Angel ignored him. “Dean. Dean, I know you’re in there.” Although he wasn’t sure, not really.

The Righteous Man (no longer righteous) stared back at him. “Your little human has turned to ash.”

This was the true abomination, the Righteous Man twisted into a Demon.

“Oh, look at you,” the Demon laughed. “So torn up about your precious Dean.” The Demon bounded off the bed and flew to the Fallen Angel’s side. He slid his lips along the Fallen Angel’s neck, and the Fallen Angel did not protest. “I could give you so much more than that pathetic human ever could.”

He planted his lips on the Fallen Angel’s, and the King of Hell cackled.

The Fallen Angel wrenched himself away from the Demon. “Not like this, Dean. Please not like this.” For the kiss was filled with fire and hate. He placed a hand on the Demon’s shoulder. “I know you’re in there, Dean.”

The Demon did not shrug off the touch.

“Know this.” The Fallen Angel pressed his lips to the demon’s, the contact full of light and hope and goodness and _love_. He pulled back and said, “If any part of you is in there, I want you to know this.” He mouthed words against the Demon’s lips. “I love you, Dean Winchester. And I always will.” Tears trickled down his cheeks. “If only I had told you before this could happen.”

The Fallen Angel drew back, and he was stunned by the sight that greeted him. Each of the Demon’s eyes had been split in half, one part solid black, the other part hazel-green.

The Fallen Angel didn’t know what that meant, but he kissed the Demon again.

Now the blackness had receded even more, taking up only one-third of each eye.

“Damn you!” the King of Hell hissed. He leapt up from his chair and shoved the Fallen Angel against the wall, banging his head against the hard surface twice. “How are you doing that?”

“I do not know,” the Fallen Angel answered honestly. But after the experimental second (third?) kiss, he had a theory.

The King of Hell pointed at the Demon, who held the First Blade in his hands. “Kill this _thing_.” He nodded at the Fallen Angel and taunted him. “Yes. I know. You are lesser now. Not an angel. Not anything.”

The Demon approached, raising the First Blade. The Fallen Angel inclined his head and declared, “Do it.” This would probably be more pleasant than burning up into nothingness.

The Demon swung at the Fallen Angel, and the Fallen Angel winced. But the Demon arrested his motion just as the First Blade touched the Fallen Angel’s neck.

“I am to kill Castiel,” the Demon recited in a mechanical voice, seeming slightly puzzled.

The King of Hell rolled his eyes. “Yes, squirrel.”

The Demon swung the First Blade again, and again it stopped at the Fallen Angel’s neck. “I felt something strange when you put your lips on mine,” he confessed. “Do it again, Castiel. So I can identify what it was.”

The Fallen Angel kissed the Demon once more, and when their lips parted, only one-fourth of each eye was black.

The King of Hell howled in frustration. “Get it over with, Dean-o!”

“One more time,” the Fallen Angel suggested.

“Okay. And then you know what happens,” said the Demon.

“Yes.”

This kiss was more passionate than the others, and this time each explored the other’s mouth with his tongue. The Fallen Angel did so gently, tenderly, but the Demon was rough. Eventually, the Demon’s pace slowed, and it felt like something akin to—

 _Love_.

But demons could not love.

The Fallen Angel had known the Demon— _his_ Demon _—_ could never be a true demon.

This time, when they broke away, the Demon turned to the King of Hell, still wielding the First Blade. He sliced off the King of Hell’s head.

When he turned back to the Fallen Angel, he was the Righteous Man.

The Righteous Man blinked. “Cas?”

“Dean.”

“What—what happened?” He dropped the First Blade as if it were poison, and his arm trembled.

“You were not yourself. But you are now.”

The Righteous Man glanced at his arm. “Something’s happening.”

He and the Fallen Angel watched as the Mark of Cain disappeared.

Then the Fallen Angel felt something changing inside him. He gasped. This was it. He would cease to exist.

But at least he had told the Righteous Man how he felt.

“Cas? Cas, are you all right?”

“I—” The Fallen Angel clutched his neck, where something shoved itself down his throat.

He wasn’t gone. He was— _alive_.

And he crackled.

Grace. It filled him to the brim, more vibrant than his original grace had ever been.

His shoulder blades ached with the pain of something sprouting.

“Dude, you got your wings back!” The Righteous Man exclaimed.

“And my grace.”

“Fuckin’ A!”

“But how can you see my wings?”

“I don’t know.” He caressed one of the wings, and the Fallen Angel shivered. He whimpered when the Righteous Man retracted his hand. “Did I hear you say you love me? You know, before—” He swept a hand toward the smooth skin of his arm.

“Yes. And I meant it. Dean Winchester, I love you.”

The Righteous Man laughed, the sound airy and exuberant. “I love you, too, Castiel. Cas.”

The Fallen Angel thrust the Righteous Man onto the bed, unable to keep his lips away from every inch of the Righteous Man’s skin.

The Righteous Man wrenched himself away. “Whoa, whoa. Wait a minute. What about him?” He pointed at the dead King of Hell.

“I suppose we should dispose of his body.”

“Then we have forever to love each other, hmm?”

The Fallen Angel returned the Righteous Man’s smile. “Yes, Dean. Forever.”

xxxxxxxxxx

As soon as the Righteous Man returned, the Lord stepped into heaven. His children wept, vying for hugs. The Lord shone his love upon them.

The Lord wove His love into the universe.

A true utopia can never exist; free will assures that. The Lord would never take that away from the world, for it is precious.

But the world became kinder. Angels and humans freely associated with each other, helping each other when needed.

Love made the world light, and while hate stayed, it remained in pockets and corners.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at angelofthemoor.tumblr.com. If you'd like to follow me, I'll follow you back!


End file.
